


Warning coloration

by WoodsWitch



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1941, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Cain and Abel, Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Eden - Freeform, Exodus - Freeform, Fraternizing, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), flood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24245830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodsWitch/pseuds/WoodsWitch
Summary: "It was hard to keep your guard up around someone so open and friendly and charming.And lovely,whispered a treacherous thought. It was dangerous beauty, Aziraphale tried to remind himself. Black, red, yellow - warning coloration, like a coral snake or a wasp. A helpful sign saying: Do not touch."Basically 6000 years of Aziraphale trying to figure out what Crowley's deal is, and some of the heavenly conditioning that makes that difficult. Of course, he was largely correct to start off with - he's just over-thinking it a bit.Note: Crowley's pronouns are all over the place in this. That was intentional, meant to reflect either how he/she/they are presenting at various points in history...but just a heads up, in case the first swap or two is jarring.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	Warning coloration

When the Angel of the Eastern Gate first met the Serpent, he knew he _ought_ to have been wary. He'd been told to keep an eye out for demons and their evil wiles, after all, and surely recent events had proved that advice to be sound. But it was hard to keep your guard up around someone so open and friendly and charming. _And lovely_ , whispered a treacherous thought. It was dangerous beauty, Aziraphale tried to remind himself. Black, red, yellow - warning coloration, like a coral snake or a wasp. A helpful sign saying: Do not touch.

Still, when the first raindrops came down, the angel instinctively raised a sheltering wing. That instinct had been an accurate one; though the rain was relatively warm, the demon soon began to shiver. The sensation of water from the sky soaking his hair and running down his face was initially invigorating, but Aziraphale quickly tired of it and was only too happy to accept the suggestion that they move to a nearby cave. They dried themselves with a quick miracle, and spent the night speculating about what was in store for the world now.

"Come to think of it," Crawly remarked, "What would have been the point of a planet this size, if they were just supposed to stay inside the Garden?"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "Are you back to wondering if convincing them to eat that apple was a _good_ thing?"

"Blerrgh. Hope not. Downstairs would not be happy." The demon looked speculative. "'Course, it isn't as if the humans took that much convincing; it was seeing them eyeing the tree that gave me the idea in the first place. That free will thing seems to come with an instinct for trouble. Maybe the whole walled-garden setup was supposed to keep the rest of Creation safe from _them_."

When the sun returned, the Serpent slithered off into the desert in the direction the humans had gone. He paused when he saw the angel wasn't following. "Aren't you coming?" he said quizzically.

"I'm meant to guard the garden," Aziraphale replied.

Snakes didn't have eyebrows to arch, but the tilt to the Serpent's head communicated something similar. "Bit late for that, isn't it? The only beings on this rock other than us are over _there_ somewhere."

"I have my duty."

Snakes shouldn't be able to shrug, either, but this one managed it. "Suit yourself. See you around, angel."

Aziraphale had only held out for a few days - a few days that included patching up the hole in the wall and an awkward conversation with the Almighty regarding the whereabouts of his sword - before following.

By the time Aziraphale found Eve again, she was nursing twins, boys she'd named Cain and Abel1 .

The angel beamed at her. "Oh, how lovely. Congratulations. I say, you haven't seen a demon around here, have you?"

Eve frowned. "Demon? Do you mean the red-haired angel who used to be a snake?"

Aziraphale coughed. "Um. I'd say 'snake who used to be an angel', but yes."

The woman's mouth crooked up at the corner. "Of course. They helped me birth these two. Which was a process _someone_ might have warned me about!" she added pointedly.

The angel blinked. "What?"

Adam had been away, looking for food, when she had gone into labor. Eve had been aware for some time of the large and familiar-looking snake lurking around the edges of their camp. Whether out of desperation or because _she_ hadn't found the demon particularly threatening either, she'd snapped: "Help me, damn it!"

"Look, this isn't really my scene..." the Serpent had tried to protest.

Eve had glared at the demon, gritting her teeth through the labor pains. "It's partly your fault I'm doing this by myself in the middle of a desert, you know!"

The snake gulped. "Um, right. So...do we need to look for a damp patch of sand for the nest, or what?"

Despite that rocky start, they'd managed to work it out. The demon had shifted into a human form. They had brought her water, held her hand, and shaded her with their wings as she brought the first naturally-born people into the world.

When angel and demon spoke of 'since Eden' in later years, they often meant not just that day on the wall but the ninety two years that followed. It had been something of a honeymoon period2 when, other than the expulsion, nothing really bad had happened yet. Aziraphale stayed with the humans full time, teaching them and guarding them from harm - which largely meant wild animals, disease, and accidents. Though the demon had followed the wandering band, and tended to lurk around the edges of their camps, Aziraphale had to admit he seemed more curious than malicious. Early on, the angel _had_ been concerned when he saw Crawly grinning as Abel whispered something in his ear. However, any minor urge to smite was tempered by the fact that the third young human, Sarai, was currently braiding the demon's hair.

"Hey, Zira!" she said cheerfully. "Look at what I did! Isn't he pretty?"

"For the bazillionth time, you ridiculous pup," Crawly grumbled, "I'm a _demon_. I'm not _pretty_." As the little girl giggled, he turned to the boy. "Excellent idea. I definitely approve." Abel dashed off, grinning.

Aziraphale scowled. "Aren't they a little _young_ to be tempted, you awful Serpent?"

"See, _that's_ the proper way to address me," Crawly remarked to Sarai. He turned to the angel. "I wasn't doing any tempting, though. Abel wanted to tell me he'd just put frog spawn in the roll of his brother's sleeping mat."

The angel's mouth opened and closed several times before he managed: " _Why?_ "

The demon shrugged. "Because it was funny. And because Cain was being annoying. But I swear he came up with it entirely on his own."

The new human population grew quickly, for even as gestation times gradually lengthened the children grew faster to adulthood and adults aged slower than they later would. As they multiplied, they experimented with new ways of doing everything. Crawly was perpetually intrigued and delighted with the inventiveness of the humans.

One day Aziraphale was sitting by a river in the land the sixth-generation humans were calling Nod, contemplating the new cluster of thatch-roofed huts, when a familiar red-haired figure came sauntering toward him.

"Hey, angel. Have you seen what the humans are doing with almonds these days?" The demon held out a bowl of nuts. Each one was covered in small crystals.

Aziraphale peered at them curiously. "What is that?"

"Honeyed almonds. I don't know how they got the honey to crystalize like that, but you should try one. I know you like sweet things."

The angel gave Crawly a suspicious sideways glance. The wretched creature must have been watching him when he discovered that pear tree. Much better than apples, in his opinion, but a little difficult to eat with dignity. "No thank you."

Crawly gave one of his trademark insouciant shrugs. "Suit yourself."

The demon sat down and popped an almond in his mouth, but did not retract the bowl out of reach.

Aziraphale sighed, and followed suit. His eyes fluttered wide as his teeth crunched down on the confection. "Oh! Oh, that _is_ quite scrumptious."

The demon grinned. "Told ya."

After watching the angel eat two more almonds with increasing enthusiasm, Crawly wordlessly handed over the bowl. Then he pulled out a leather flask and took a swig.

"Oh, do you have water? These _are_ very good, but rather thirst-provoking."

Crawly held out the flask. "'S'not water, but you can try it if you like."

Aziraphale was not about to drink any random liquid offered by a demon without further explanation. "What _is_ it, then?"

"Another new thing the humans are doing. Fermented grape juice. They call it 'wine'."

Aziraphale took a cautious sip and made a face. "It's not sweet."

Crawly sprawled out in the grass. "No, apparently when you take sugar and feed it to these little invisible thing-gummies, they turn it into alcohol. A bit of an acquired taste, but it has some rather pleasant effects on a corporation if you don't overdo it."

The angel took another sip. "Mmm. It does have rather a _warming_ effect without actually being hot, doesn't it?" It did indeed seem like the kind of thing that could grow on you.

The two of them sat on the riverbank talking for the rest of the afternoon, long after both almonds and wine were finished.

They should both have seen it coming, really. As unusually cooperative as humans were, compared to most other creatures, they could at times swing to the other extreme. Somehow as the population grew larger and they created more _things_ and made up more differentiated roles for themselves, the amplitude of those swings in temperament increased as well. And, of course, encouraging a bit of mischievous behavior, grumpiness, jealousy, argument, and the like was all in a demon's job description. It was perhaps inevitable that, in combination, those things would eventually have an explosive effect.

The brothers looked about thirty by modern standards, but they were ninety two years old3 and had been bickering constantly for at least eighty-eight of those years. Still, their fights had never gotten more serious than a few shoves or a shouting match, so it was a shock to discover Abel's blood-spattered body with the caved-in skull, after Cain's vehement denials that he knew anything about where his brother was. Eve had wept so hard Aziraphale had been afraid she might discorporate herself. _Die_ , that is; there would be no filling out forms for new bodies for these creatures. Though she had by now thousands of children, grandchildren, and up to great-to-the-sixth-grandchildren, the twins were her first - the ones she had birthed in the desert, frightened and alone except for one unlikely midwife.

Aziraphale found the demon perched on the edge of a canyon like a vulture, long arms wrapped around his knees, inky wings hunched up on his back.

"Crawly? Did...did you hear what happened? Oh, it's just the most awful mess...

"You ssshouldn't talk to me, angel," the demon had hissed, still staring off into the distance.

"Pardon?"

" _No one_ should talk to me." And with that, he had leapt off the cliff, soaring away on ominous black pinions.

~~~

_Well, I suppose that is that_ , Aziraphale had thought. The demon had shown his true colors. All that seeming kindness and openness must have been a front to whatever his wicked game was. The thought made him oscillate between anger and self-recrimination and a terrible sense of loss.

It didn't help matters when Gabriel gave a presentation on the wiles demons would use to gain human souls.

Aziraphale raised a hand. "I'm sorry...what?"

Gabriel sighed, clearly annoyed to be interrupted. "What is it now, Aziraphale?"

"You said 'gain human souls'? How? Why?"

The Archangel rolled his amethyst eyes. All of them, including the dozens that peeped out between the feathers of his four snowy wings. "Honestly, Aziraphale. Why do you _never_ pay attention to the briefings?"

 _If you remembered to_ tell _me they were happening, maybe I would_ , the angel thought, but prudently did not say.

"Now that humans have knowledge of good and evil," Gabriel explained, shooting a judgmental glance at the former Guardian of Eden, "they can choose either. Or both. The new Department of Earth Observations, under the leadership of Ramiel here, is keeping track of those choices. If the good outweighs the bad, they will be rewarded with an eternity here in heaven. Jehudiel is pilot-testing the human sector with the first three souls we have received. If, on the other hand, the evil outweighs the good, the soul will be consigned to hell for eternity."

"Eternity?" Aziraphale said, appalled. He did not add: _Like the demons? Our siblings who got dropped into a pit of burning sulfur?_

"That is correct. Puriel will be in charge of checking the sums and confirming with her opposite number who I believe is..." the Archangel checked his notes, "Dagon."

Aziraphale's heart sank. He recalled Crawly grousing about how his line manager, a fishy-looking demon of that name, was demanding more results. "I see. Well, thank you for clarifying the situation."

Gabriel nodded sharply. "Right. So, obviously we cannot give hell the satisfaction of winning the souls race. On the handouts you will see a summary our current five-century plan..."

A thousand years passed. Humanity continued to expand. Villages grew into towns, and towns into cities. Local chieftains became kings, and soothsayers high priests. The buildings grew more lavish, the artworks and law codes more complex. But Aziraphale couldn't help but notice that the majority of the humans in the places where these kingdoms sprang up were more malnourished and overworked than their stateless relatives. People actually had to be reminded to share their bread with those who had none. And an increasing number of the new kings and lords declared other humans to be not their brothers and sisters but their property. Humanity's dark side seemed to be spiraling in other ways, as well. The first murder had not been the last, but neither was violent conflict confined to siblings. Villages raided one another for loot or cattle, and budding cities went to war for land and slaves.

Perhaps it was the influence of demons, Aziraphale thought. Demons like Crawly. The angel never spotted that lanky red-readed figure among the growing crowds, though some part of him kept looking. He _had_ encountered one or two other demons, briefly. Aziraphale was a Guardian, and even without his sword he had been able to send them scurrying away from the blaze of his holy light. They had been nasty pieces of work, brutish and foul-smelling. Those demons he could picture sowing the kind of discord he was seeing among the humans. But Crawly? _Come on angel_ , Aziraphale imagined the demon's sardonic voice saying, as he contemplated the aftermath of a battle. _Piles of skulls? You should know I have a better sense of style than_ THAT.

~~~

The angel felt a tap on his right shoulder, and glanced in that direction before noticing the demon on his left. "Hullo, Aziraphale!"

"Crawly," he replied neutrally, trying to ignore the flip-flop of his stomach.

"So...giving the mortals a flaming sword. How did that work out for you?"

Crawly sounded as friendly as ever. Possibly even slightly flirtatious. _But of course he would be_ , Aziraphale tried to remind himself. _He's a tempter, you fluffy-headed idiot!_

"The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again," Aziraphale replied.

The demon pursed his lips. "Hmm. Probably a good thing."

He wondered if Crawly had heard about the dustup that happened when, about five hundred years ago, Gabriel and Michael found out about Raziel giving the humans a book. Not just any book - a book of holy wisdom. It hadn't come to much at first: Adam and Eve couldn't read, and even Aziraphale had felt that instructing them how to, say, find clean water and avoid bad meat really ought to come before teaching them enough Enochian to learn how to manipulate reality. But he _had_ shown them how to keep the volume safe and dry, and it had been passed on to their descendants. Some of them had started to make copies of the pages and try to figure them out. It was about then that the Archangels discovered the gift. They tracked down the original volume, which they flung into the sea while berating poor Raziel in front of the whole host. Aziraphale had been sure his old friend was going to Fall, and had steeled himself to watch another pair of wings burn and blacken as their wearer tumbled down into the Pit. At least this time he wouldn't have to wield the sword that drove them into it. And then, at the last moment, a reprieve - Raziel did not Fall, but he was banned from earth for at least the next two thousand years.

Oh, the _sword..._ Aziraphale's stomach churned as another thought struck him. What if the sword he had given the humans to protect them and keep them warm had somehow carried the echoes of that First War between siblings? He had been blaming the demons, but what if it was _him_? If it was, surely he would deserve as much censure as Raziel, and more.

"So, what's all this about, then?" Crawly's voice startled Aziraphale out of his gloomy reverie. "Build a big boat and fill it with a travelling zoo?"

The angel hesitantly explained, and the demon looked genuinely horrified at the idea that the Almighty planned to drown an entire region, including the children.

"That's more like something _my_ lot would do!"

 _No._ Your _lot would let them grow up, then encourage them to do something terrible so you can claim their souls and torture them for an eternity,_ Aziraphale thought. But the demon already looked upset enough, and he couldn't bring himself to say it.

Horror turned to anger as the rain began to fall and the demon realized that the angel really _was_ only going to be helping Noah and his family.

"Seriously?" he snarled, golden eyes flashing, "You aren't even going to try and warn anyone else to run, or build a raft, or _anything_?"

Aziraphale had never seen Crawly that angry. He seemed to have lost control over his corporation slightly: his fangs were plainly visible and black scales flickered on the side of his neck. And yet the angel still didn't feel any trepidation. Not that he would have worried much for his own safety - he could sear a demon's flesh with his bare hands, if he needed to. But he didn't _want_ to. If he had his way, he would never fight anyone ever again, let alone this lovely flame-haired creature whose attitude to the whole situation somehow seemed far more appropriate than Gabriel's dispassionate orders. And, for whatever reason, he felt sure that Crawly wouldn't make him.

 _I don't like it any more than you do_ , Aziraphale wanted to say. But of course he couldn't. So he crossed his arms and said instead: "Those are my instructions. It is going to _literally_ take daily miracles just to keep all those animals from eating each other, not to mention getting rid of all the dung."

The demon was pacing now. "Oh, right. Well. That's just _bloody perfect_ , then. Yes, that really is divine planning for you. Just shove some people and bloody zoo on a sodding boat, drown everyone else to get rid of the bad apples, and put up a pretty light in the sky to say you're sorry. Yeah, that's just _fucking typical_ , isn't it?"

Aziraphale glanced anxiously upward, wondering if this speech was about to call in a smiting. "We shouldn't question the Divine Plan, Crawly. Our knowledge is imperfect, and it isn't for us to..."

"I'm a sodding demon, angel!" Crawly snapped, "I'll question as much as I like. What the fuck else is She going to do to me?"

The demon stalked off in the direction of the nearest village.

Aziraphale hurried after him. "Where are you going?"

"To screw with the blessed Divine Plan," he growled. "That's my _fucking job_ , isn't it?"

"By...rescuing people?"

The demon snorted. "If they'll let me. I'm not as trustworthy-looking as you. And it's going to look _bloody weird_ on my resume, but there we are." He whirled around and fixed Aziraphale with a golden stare. "Are you going to try and stop me? _Thwart my evil wiles?_ "

Aziraphale shook his head.

"Then, if you won't help, get back to that boat and do your duty, angel."

"The mountains to the east," Aziraphale whispered. "The whole double river valley is going to flood for forty days, but anyone who makes it to those mountains should be safe. To the west there's only desert."

The demon regarded him narrowly for a moment. Then he nodded sharply, and continued on his way.

Aziraphale ushered Noah and his family and menagerie out of the ark and back down into the valley, which was still muddy and strewn with bones. The last month and a half had been rather awful, and it occurred to him a visit back up to heaven would come as a pleasant break. Some bland and soothing celestial harmonies would be just the ticket. Unfortunately, it turned out there was a staff meeting scheduled.

Gabriel tapped a pen on his clipboard like a miniature gavel. "Right. Now, as you all know, there has had to be a bit of a change to the org chart as of late. Since the rebellious Watchers were cast out, we have had to find a new head of Earth Observations. I would like to introduce you all to Zerachiel." Gabriel indicated a slim angel with a shock of dark hair and blue eyes, who waved shyly at the assembled host. "I am sure they will be able to put the whole thing on a much more rational footing going forward. There are also some updates to the Earth Agents regulations. Uriel?"

A dark-skinned Archangel stepped forward. The gold spangles on her cheeks should have added a playful note to her serious expression. They absolutely did not. "Right, you lot," she snapped. "Listen up, because I am only going to say this once. There is to be _absolutely no fraternizing with the humans_. We do NOT want a repeat of the Nephilim situation. Fortunately, all angel-human hybrids appear to have been destroyed in the flood."

She fixed the assembled host with a sharp dark eye. "Now, Gabriel suggested that all corporations be re-issued to be permanently sexless. Upon further consideration, we concluded that that would be impractical, as there are situations in which it would make passing as human impossible. However, we wish to impress upon you that all efforts to change the baseline condition are to be for decorative purposes only. _Do I make myself clear_?"

With an anxious shivering of wings, thousands of angels nodded obediently.

On returning to earth, Aziraphale closed his eyes and tried to sense if there was a demonic presence anywhere near the recently flooded valley. Nothing. It was...well, it _shouldn't_ be _worrying_. Not only should he not be worrying for demons _at all_ , but Crawly could surely take care of himself, couldn't he? And who said he had stuck around here? He could easily have slithered off back to hell, or nipped over to another spot on earth for a quick temptation. Still, the angel found himself flying toward the eastern mountain range. That was where he'd told the demon it would be safe, after all. And he'd been fairly sure he'd seen a dark winged figure swooping past in the distance, carrying a smaller figure eastward as the waters rose.

THERE. Suddenly an occult presence was _there_ , a mile or so in front of him, where it hadn't been before. He proceeded quickly but cautiously - it wouldn't do to burst in and surprise a completely different demon, after all. But no...at the edge of a clearing, a slim, copper-haired figure draped his back against a boulder. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be drinking in the sun through his pores. Aziraphale slowed. The demon had been so angry at him, and he looked so tired now. Perhaps this visit was an imposition.

Just as he was about to turn and go, saffron-colored serpentine eyes blinked open. "Hullo, angel," the demon said wearily.

"Oh, hello." Aziraphale clasped and unclasped his hands awkwardly. "I just...I was hoping I might find you somewhere around here."

A ghost of a smile flitted across the demon's face. "Were you, now?" He levered himself forward off the rock...and hissed, clutching his left arm in a gesture of pain.

"Crawly! Are you hurt?"

The demon straightened up. "Nah. Just a bit of a rough performance review, that's all."

Aziraphale stared at him. "A rough..." Blood dripped down the demon's hand, and made a scarlet splash on the earth. The angel's eyes narrowed. "Let me see."

Crawly took a step backward. "Really, angel. It's nothing. And, um, no offense, but I think the cure might end up being worse than the initial problem."

"I'm not going to try and miracle you, you stubborn serpent," Aziraphale said irritably, "I just want to see your arm."

Crawly hesitated, then pushed up the sleeve of his robe. There were five gashes in his upper arm, as if a taloned hand had gripped it hard, tearing the skin. Aziraphale held his elbow gently as he poured some of the wine from the flask at his hip over the wound to clean it. The demon hissed.

"Sorry. Does it hurt?"

"The only thing that hurts is watching you waste good wine like that," Crawly quipped.

Aziraphale's mouth twitched. "Well, don't worry. There's more where that came from." Obediently and invisibly, the flask refilled itself as the angel tore a strip off the bottom of his robe and wrapped it around the wound.

The demon flushed slightly, as he looked at the white cloth bound around his arm. "Um. Thanks," he said, dropping his dark sleeve once again to cover it.

"Don't thank me," Aziraphale sighed, sitting down beside him and wrapping his hands around his knees.

"Right. Suppose it wouldn't do, demons thanking angels."

Aziraphale's heart sank slightly at the bitter tone. Still, he supposed the demon had a point. "Best not, don't you think? Especially if... Am I right in guessing that that _rough performance review_ had something to do with our last meeting?" 

Crawly gave him a rueful grimace. "Nrrgh. Well. Some of my lot are not very open-minded when it comes to how Divine Plans ought to be thwarted."

The angel swallowed. "So you did rescue some of the humans, then?"

That weary look returned. "A few, yeah. Some of the kids I'd met who trusted me enough not to scream bloody murder when I tried to pick them up. Some shepherds who were close enough to the hills to make a run for it on their own. Some fisherfolk and ferrymen who had their own boats. Forty three, altogether. Forty three, out of thirty thousand." The demon raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "I don't suppose anyone even _noticed_ that bit of thwarting Upstairs, did they?"

"Well, it seems you didn't save any of the main targets, so no," Aziraphale admitted.

Crawly frowned. "There were _main targets_?"

"Apparently. Did you know some of the Watchers had been, er, _procreating_ with the humans? It resulted in massively large people with magical powers. But apparently the Flood...dealt with that issue."

The demon gaped at him. "Are you telling me this _whole bloody mess_ was to take out, what, maybe a hundred superpowered bastards?! Why the heaven didn't your bosses just bring out the old thunderbolts?"

"I don't know," the angel said miserably, leaning his head on his arms. Though he could just picture Michael impatiently saying: _Oh, just kill them all and sort it out afterward_. _They're just going to end up Above or Below eventually anyway_. "I should have helped you."

"No!" Crawly said sharply. When the angel looked at him quizzically, he cleared his throat. "Er. That is...You were right. That would have been directly contradicting your orders. Not big on that Upstairs, are they? A little _interpretation_ , maybe, but not open defiance."4

"And your side is?" the angel asked, tipping his head toward the demon's injured arm.

"Not remotely. They're more in favor of disobedience _in theory_ , you know. But this? _This_ was just, ah, a product of creative differences." Crawly grinned at him. "Nothing a more carefully-worded report couldn't have avoided. Now...did you say you had more of that wine?"

~~~

Aziraphale encountered the red-haired demon much more frequently over the next sixteen centuries. He was beginning to recognize when Crawly was in the area. Aziraphale's ethereal senses could pick up on occult presences even from hundreds of miles away, if he was paying attention. What he hadn't initially realized was that each such signature was distinctive. Crawly's was a dark flame that flickered in his mind without burning, and somehow made him feel like he could _smell_ the demon, even when his nose swore up and down that it had nothing to do with it. That smell was less sulfurous than most demons, with not a hint of rot or corruption. It was an ashy scent, with a hint of something warm and spicy: like ginger, perhaps, or cinnamon.

Possibly the demon had a similar sense, because every fifty to a hundred years, there they were, sauntering up with a casual: "Hey, angel. Fancy meeting you here!" In Sumer, Akkad, the Indus Valley, Egypt, the Aegean islands, Meggido, Babylon, Shang China, Crete... After the first five of these encounters, Aziraphale concluded that Crawly really _was_ flirting with him. Yes, their baseline vibe was rather casually sensual, but there was something extra in all the offers of food and drink, in the way Crawly sashayed and leaned in and _posed_ , and in the intensity with which they watched the angel. That realization triggered a bout of paranoia. What if _he_ , not the humans, were the demon's main target? Not that Uriel had explictly included demons in that prohibition on _fraternizing_ , but it probably went without saying, didn't it? Tempting a Principality to Fall would surely be a major coup for any demon.

But...if that were the case, Crawly must have been playing the long game to the extreme. For all the times they had draped themselves enticingly in front of or alongside the angel, the only times either had touched the other had been out of necessity: yanking one another out of the path of danger, patching up a wound, offering a steadying hand when one of them had overdone it a touch on the wine. Crawly might have constantly been suggesting small pleasures carefully tailored to the angel's tastes, or slightly harebrained plans, but they never _pushed_ , never tried to force the issue. It was always: "Ah, well. Suit yourself, I suppose." And Aziraphale couldn't help but enjoy basking in that attention.

Oddly, it reminded him of heaven as it used to be. He could remember angels singing for the pure joy of it; Raziel draping an arm companionably over his shoulder as they discussed the possibilities of the written word; the animal and plant designers giggling as they added whimsical touches to their creatures; Michael smiling and clapping him on the back when he did well in a sword exercise, the purpose of which none of them yet knew. Then, of course, there was the First War, and the first Fall. They had all been left reeling, in one way or another, whether by the horror of having to do violence to one's former comrades, the stress of being left with half a team with Creation only partially completed, or the anxiety that came from the knowledge that you yourself might one day burn. Gabriel and Michael had pulled it all together, they had made heaven _function_ again. But it was a stiffer, colder heaven, with more rules and fewer smiles. Camaraderie was more difficult when you had to worry it might be mistaken for collusion. Up There didn't really feel like home anymore. Instead, it was here, on earth - especially, God forgive him, with this demon - that Aziraphale felt properly alive, even happy.

~~~

"Now, as I'm sure you Earth Agents are all aware, one of the distinguishing features of the demon is their black wings." Sandalphon slapped the poster depicting a cartoon of a demon with a pointer, causing some of the more anxious angels in the audience to jump. "This, along with their characteristic sulfurous, burnt aroma is the product of their Fall. Most demons will avoid showing their wings, this mark of infamy. BUT every demon _also_ has at least one feature that marks them out from humans. This is usually animalistic in nature, such as talons, fangs, scales, goat eyes, and so on, and is meant to aid humans in detecting them and avoiding their wiles."

Aziraphale thought of a pair of serpentine eyes, golden as honey. No wonder the demon was self-conscious about them, if that was what they were _for_. But if such eyes were meant to be off-putting, someone had clearly miscalculated.

Sandalphon flipped over the poster, revealing a list: Charity, Diligence, Temperance, Patience, Kindness, Chastity, Humility, Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, Love. "Right then. I'm sure you recognize these virtues, from the examples of your fellow angels. These, and their counterparts, the vices, are also the criteria on which human souls are judged. What you must never forget about demons is that, in rejecting our Maker, in rejecting the Almighty's love and wisdom, they also rejected these virtues. They have become instead sinks of vice, creatures of Hatred, Wrath, Sloth, Pride...yes, _what is it_ , Cassiel?"

"Er, excuse me, sir," an angel with dark hair and large soulful eyes said, lowering their hand. "I'm not sure I understand. If demons are all Sloth and no Diligence, how do they manage to create such disruption?"

Sandalphon frowned, but he had to admit it was... "A fair question. When I say demons are creatures of vice, that does not mean they cannot exercise any qualities that might, in some circumstances, be a virtue - only that such qualities are used in service of vice. For instance, a demon might exercise some amount of Patience and Diligence in the interest of tempting to Lust, for example. Now, the means of temptation... _Yes_ , Aziraphale?"

"Sorry. Er. Just to clarify...does that mean a demon might sometimes exhibit Love, as well?"

The Archangel rolled his eyes. "Can you think of any vice that would be furthered by the exercise of genuine Love?"

Aziraphale swallowed. "Um...No. No, I...I can't say I can."

"Right, then. There's your answer. Now if we could please _move on_ to the real topic of this lesson: temptation methods. Yes? Good."

~~~

Egypt had, Aziraphale considered, something of a snake fixation. The tales of the sun god Ra, for instance, not only included the gigantic serpent Apep attempting to eat the sun but also at least thirty six others involved just in the sun's nightly journey through the underworld: fire-breathing snakes, boats that turn into snakes, two headed snakes with legs, and more. Whether that was due to the influence of a certain demon, or simply to a river valley surrounded by desert being an excellent place to find real snakes of all sorts, he wasn't sure. One of these snake deities, however, _was_ attributed properties that were strangely familiar.

The locals had little fear of Renenutet, though it was said that in the underworld she became a fire-breathing cobra who could kill with a glance. Up here, she was a patroness of agriculture and nourishment, even supposedly sending snakes to eat the rats that threatened the granaries. Her name meant "snake who nurses", as she was said to be the protector of children, giving them their secret names at birth. And as for where they placed her shrines...well, should Crawly choose to impersonate a god, this was exactly where Aziraphale would expect to find them.

Aziraphale spotted the copper-haired demon from a distance, between the lines of grapevines, lounging on the steps of the shrine. A farmer was kneeling in front of it, holding up a stalk of wheat.

"The new leaves are all yellow, my lady," the man was saying.

"Hmm, looks like sulfur deficiency." The voice was marginally higher than when Aziraphale had last heard it, but the silky drawl was unmistakeable, as was the subtle humor as she added: "Not a problem; that's an easy one for me."

As the farmer bowed gratefully, the demon must have spotted the angel approaching through the vineyard. She flowed gracefully to her feet.

"Yes, yes. Now run along - I have other business to attend to."

"Thank you, my lady!" The farmer glanced at Aziraphale, and bowed deeply. "Oh! My lord Thoth! Excuse me!"

As the peasant scuttled off, Aziraphale got a clear look at the demon. Her hair was plaited into a myriad of tiny braids that hung to her shoulders. A single strap supported the sheer linen sheath overlain with a net of jet beads that started just beneath her small breasts and traced every curve down to her ankles. A golden serpent bracelet twisted up her left arm. The green malachite on the lids of her eyes and the dark tracings of khol made her serpentine eyes look even larger than usual. It was not hard to spot the twinkle of mischief in them as Crawly took in the angel's expression.

"Hey, angel. What do you think?" She posed and twirled a bit.

Aziraphale shut his mouth, and coughed. "My word. That's...a look."

Crawly grinned. "Yeah, I felt like changing things up. And really, this is about the only place right now where a female corporation isn't more hassle than it's worth. Wine? The local vintage is more than passably drinkable."

"Are you actually blessing farm fields now?" Aziraphale asked, as he took the proffered cup.

Crawly, lounging on the steps once more, pouted at him. " _No._ Hmmph. Really, like you'd catch me _blessing_ things." Then her look turned sly. "I'm raining brimstone on the fields like a proper demon, _naturally_. I think even Hastur would approve of that one, don't you?"

The angel raised an eyebrow. "Does it count if the farmer asked you to do it?"

The demon sipped her wine. "Well, I don't have to tell him that bit. And the being-worshipped-as-a-god thing is generally encouraged, of course."

"Mmm. Of course." Aziraphale took a draught of his own wine. A thought struck him. "Speaking of which, did that fellow call me _Thoth_?"

Crawly tapped a finger to her right ear and looked pointedly at Aziraphale. The angel reached up and pulled out a pen. "Oh! I forgot about that."

The demon grinned. "You're also rather pale and round, like the moon. No offense meant, of course - it suits you. _And_ you're carrying a papyrus scroll. Did you forget about that as well?"

Aziraphale looked down at the scroll in his hands. "Ah. No. That's...why I'm here, actually. You see, I've received some new orders. Um. Regarding Egypt."

Crawly's eyes narrowed. "Go on."

The angel took a deep breath. "There's this fellow the Almighty apparently favors. He got a vision from the Metatron themself saying he's supposed to free the Israelites and lead them out of Egypt."

The demon looked puzzled. "Who are the Israelites?"

"Oh, they're from Caanan, originally. You might not have noticed them. There's only twelve families of them, two hundred or so people in total."

"And now they want to leave?" Crawly shrugged. "Sure. Where's the problem?"

"Well, they entered into this sort of indentured labor contract with the state. They're not supposed to go anywhere for another fifty years. But this Moses fellow is rather keen to do it _right now_. And he has a...what did you call it? Ah, a bit of an anger management problem."

The demon snorted. "I can see why She likes him, then. But two hundred people against the whole state of Egypt? Doesn't seem like much of a contest."

"No it wouldn't be. Except..." Aziraphale wondered if he looked as miserable as he felt. "Except they would have assistance. From me. This is what I'm supposed to provide to help move the negotiations along. If, um, requested."

Crawly took the scroll, and scanned over it. "Let's see... River into blood, excess frogs, excess lice, swarms of flies, pestilence of cattle - well, I suppose that's to be expected, what with the last two. Boils, thunderstorms with hail, locusts - it's almost _harvest time_ , angel; This might as well just say _famine_. Hmm. Darkness for three days, and..." The demon looked up at Aziraphale sharply. "No. _Tell me_ I am not reading this right!"

Aziraphale swallowed. "I'm afraid so. But it doesn't have to be that way," the angel added quickly. "If the pharaoh will agree to let these people out of their contracts the first time this Moses asks, none of that has to happen."

Crawly blinked her large golden eyes slowly. "Why are you telling _me_?"

"Because you - or Renenutet, rather - is supposed to be the protector of the king from birth until death, right? Who better to get him to listen?"

The demon considered this. "Are you actually asking me to help you defy orders, angel? Using my goddess-impersonation skills?"

Aziraphale sniffed. "Not at all. My orders are to get these people out of here and back to Caanan. The plagues appear to be merely a contingency plan. And I think we would both prefer it if I didn't have to use it."

A smile crept across her face. "Right, yeah. Would really be disrupting _my_ demonic plans if you had to start slaughtering my worshippers, wouldn't it?"

"Indeed. So...you think you can do it?"

Crawly raised her eyebrows. "You doubt my powers of persuasion?"

Aziraphale smiled. "Not at all, my dear. Not at all."

Aziraphale was watching the Israelites pack up their tents when Crawly, back in snake form, slithered up by his feet.

"Were they sssurprised he said yes ssso fast?"

The angel chuckled. "I should say so. Moses seemed a little put out, to be honest."

"I'm sssure the tale will grow with the telling. So...a forty-day hike and they'll be back home, eh?"

"Not...exactly."

The Serpent looked up at Aziraphale curiously. "What do you mean?"

"They're supposed to...wander. For a while."

"Why? And how long is 'a while'."

Aziraphale coughed. "At least ten years. Up to forty. It's...I'm told it's for team building and character development."

The Serpent snorted. "Endurance building, maybe. Is this one of Gabriel's plans?"

"How did you know?"

"Nonsense activities that don't accomplish anything for the purpose of _team building_ is just the kind of thing that twat would invent."

Aziraphale huffed out a breath. "I'm not really sure how we're even supposed to keep them lost for that long. I mean, it is a desert but it's not THAT big a desert."

Crawly considered this for a moment. "Have you got a pen and a bit of papyrus?"

Of course Aziraphale did.

Crawly shifted back into human form to take it. As they did, the angel noted that they'd kept the feminine long braids and narrow chin but were wearing the short linen kilt of a scribe, presumably for comfort in sitting cross-legged on the sand. Perhaps to match, they had adopted the narrow flat chest of a typical male scribe as well.

"Right, then. Well, what you clearly want to do first is turn sharply south and around the edge of the Sinai peninsula - but keep a bit inland so they can't see the sea. That will at least double your time. Then I suppose you could zigzag around in there, but to really get to _years_...Ah! When you get to the tip of the Gulf of Aquaba don't go north toward Caanan - go _south_ again. There's another whole peninsula - a much bigger one - to get lost in. Hmm, let me see..." The demon finished sketching, and handed the papyrus back to the angel. "There you go. If you follow that map, it should use up five years at least, unless they decide to mutiny. If memory serves, there should be some decent oases and such along the way, but no major landmarks - like Babylon, or the Dead Sea - that will make it too easy to figure out that you're screwing with them."

Aziraphale beamed. "Oh, really...you didn't have to do that!"

"Are you kidding?" Crawly grinned. "This sounds like something _I'd_ come up with to get everyone involved annoyed at one another. In fact, do you mind if I pinch the 'teambuilding' idea? Ooh, and what do you think would be a good generic name for the excessively-long-journey-with-relatives thing? I'm thinking 'road trip'."

"There's no road. That's the whole point."

The demon rolled their eyes. "Fine. This one's an off-road trip, then. But I think the concept has merit either way, don't you?"

~~~

They both changed, as the years went by, though the demon was always apt to be more dramatic and sudden about it. A new name - Crowley - and smoked glass lenses to disguise serpentine eyes5. The demon stuck to man-shape most of the time these days - at first for greater freedom of movement, later perhaps because it had become the well-worn jeans in Crowley's closet of forms - but they would still shift from human to snake, or from male to female to somewhere in between, when the mood or the situation called for it. There were new clothes, a new hairstyle, with every city, every shift in the winds of fashion...though always within the same color scheme. Humans often wore black for mourning, Aziraphale noticed. He wondered, sometimes, if demons mourned the loss of heaven. The loss of Love. Perhaps they didn't remember what either was like. He wasn't sure which he hoped was true. It might be a mercy, not to remember what you couldn't have. But memories could be a comfort too.

Some things were constants, of course: Crowley's tendency to _lounge against_ or _drape over_ rather than merely _stand_ or _sit_. The demon's quick wit, sardonic smile, penchant for mischief, and enthusiasm for keeping up with human inventions. Their taste for wine, and the company of a particular ethereal being. But, then again, even in these constants there were subtle hints of change. There was a tension in that casual posture, a twist of pain or cynicism in that sarcastic grin, more often than there used to be. Over time the chance of the inventions triggering a heavy bout of drinking, or the reaction of "oh, this will definitely cause some mischief!" rather than pure delight seemed to increase. For his part, Aziraphale had started to question things more. Not out loud, generally, and certainly not to his superiors. But none of the three realms looked quite the same as they had before he started learning to see them through those haunting golden eyes.

On the plus side - at least, Aziraphale was starting to admit that he considered it a plus - the nature of their association changed, too. At some point he had given up on reminding himself to keep an eye out for the demon's wiles. There didn't actually seem to be any. Or, rather, there didn't seem to be any particularly harmful ones directed at him, or any of the humans under his charge. A devious plan to get him to try a new cocktail, perhaps, or to annoy him by misquoting poetry. There wasn't much point in resisting wiles of that nature.

They had to keep up a show of being adversaries for their respective head offices, of course. But to pretend he didn't enjoy Crowley's company, that would be too big a self-delusion to swallow. He'd actually started seeking the demon out, initially under the pretense that he ought to foil whatever hellish plans were afoot. Possibly he succeeded, even if he always ended up either starting a rather silly argument or blurting out an invitation to eat something or to see a show, because Crowley always played along or said yes, whatever the demon's previous plans might have been. Several centuries ago, they had gone so far as to agree to avoid interfering with one another altogether, and even traded jobs when it was more efficient. Crowley had never asked him to do anything too morally objectionable. In fact, it was rather embarrassing how much better at blessings and healing miracles the demon seemed to be than Aziraphale was at even the simplest temptation.

Were they...friends? Out loud he always said no, but just thinking the word felt warm, and right. _Crowley_ would say it: "Waiter, bring my friend here some wine. What are you having, Angel?" Aziraphale wasn't sure when he had stopped hearing that word - or Crowley had stopped saying it - as "angel", a mere descriptor, and instead as "Angel", a nickname for a _specific_ angel. As _my_ Angel, even. Why did that word, that thought, make his heart skip a beat every time? It was itself merely an accurate description, after all; it wasn't like Crowley had any _other_ angel associates. Now, there was an odd thought: Was Crowley then _his_ _demon_? Not that he ever referred to Crowley as "Demon", which sounded far too much like the start of a banishment; he had instead fallen into saying "my dear", "dear boy", or "my dear chap". He had become aware in recent centuries that humans could hear these terms as pet names. Some even assumed they were in a romantic relationship, especially (though not exclusively) if they were presenting opposite genders6. Which was ridiculous, _of course_. But these were dangerous waters nonetheless.

The more he saw of the demon, the more Aziraphale wondered if his warning coloration was that of the king snake, not the coral snake: protection for the creature that wore it, not the viewer. _Red next to yellow kills a fellow; red next to black is a friend of Jack._ Being a 'friend of Jack' - being fond of humans - was probably not a safe position to hold in hell. Crowley masked it partly with a swagger and a snarl, with a style that said: 'Look at what a cool and confident hellbeast I am. Yep, just the demoniest demon that ever demoned. No scruples or soft feelings here, nosiree.' The other part of the disguise was reputation. Being the Serpent of Eden and the Tempter of Cain had helped kick it off, of course. Since then, Crowley had started to take credit for the awful deeds that humans came up with on their own, to the point that things like the Spanish Inquisition were attributed to him before the demon even knew they were happening. Though some of these attributions triggered despondent drinking binges, all those commendations gave Crowley the status he needed to stay on earth full time. Moreover, though many of the technically more senior demons objected to Crowley's oddly diffuse approach to temptations, a "Hey, they love me Down There. Got to move with the times, yeah?" was often enough to get them to back down and leave him to it. It was a brilliant plan...so long as the illusion could be maintained.

But how long was that? If building a house of cards of lies to hell weren't bad enough in itself, sometimes the demon's recklessness seemed downright self-destructive. Perhaps it was, the product of a despair lurking behind that cheerily sarcastic exterior. The demon never seemed to stay down for long, true, but for the damned optimism is a hard quality to maintain. And perhaps Crowley himself realized it. He confined himself to his rooms for thirty years once and, when he emerged, had the nerve to ask for holy water. "For insurance" he said - but all Aziraphale could see was, yes, _his demon_ melted into a puddle on the floor in a bout of melancholy or a fit of panic at being found out.

Well, maybe Crowley didn't care about _his own_ safety, but the angel knew he had a trump card he could play: "Do you know how much trouble _I'd_ be in if _they_ knew I'd been...fraternizing?"

Unfortunately, Crowley latched on to the last part of that phrase rather than the first. " _Fraternizing_?"

 _Oh, Lord. Why did I pick_ that _word?_ " Or whatever you wish to call it."

"I have plenty of people to _fraternize_ with, Angel," Crowley growled.

Aziraphale found himself scoffing at the idea. "Oh, _of course_ you do." _That's why you've been hanging around_ me _far more than is safe for_ millennia, _is it?_ 7

"I don't need you."

"And the feeling is mutual! Obviously!"

Crowley had retreated back to his rooms, and slept out the rest of the nineteenth century. Aziraphale knew this because he had visited, repeatedly. The wards to keep out any hostile occult or ethereal forces didn't even register his presence. Unfortunately, neither did the demon, who remained stubbornly unconscious no matter how often the angel whispered: "I'm sorry, my dear. I shouldn't have lost my temper. I just don't want to be responsible for what something like that might do to you. I miss you, dear boy. Please come back." Perhaps it did sink in, eventually. Crowley came sauntering back into his life in 1901 with a cheery grin and absolutely zero acknowledgement of those missing years. And no further mention of holy water, though Aziraphale suspected that he hadn't given up on the idea.

The metaphorical bombshell hit him the night two _actual_ bombshells didn't, eighty years before the End.

 _Oh, Lord. I love him. No, I'm_ in love _with him, this ridiculous demon who'd hop over consecrated ground to rescue me - still attempting to look cool. Who remembered my beloved books, and saved them too, even when I'd forgotten_. 

"Lift home?"

 _Oh, this is bad! Or, is it? I mean, yes, I_ absolutely _cannot tell_ anyone _about this. But the feeling itself, that's...that's only right, isn't it?_

Aziraphale thought of all the kind acts the demon had done for him over the centuries, from sharing that cup of honeyed almonds, to passing on interesting manuscripts, to making sure a play he thought was excessively gloomy was a hit anyway, to previous daring rescues. And it wasn't just the angel who had benefited from such kindness and charity either. From ensuring that his disruption-causing cart accidents happened precisely where they would roll fruit into the waiting hands of street urchins, to encouraging the kind of questioning that had the side-benefit of developing philosophies unfriendly to any future Inquisitions, Crowley was, in his way, a guardian of humanity too. He had a code of his own that didn't give a damn for what any authority said, but only asked: who is harmed, and is that fair?

Crowley gave him a quizzical look. "You coming, Angel?"

Aziraphale shook himself out of his reverie. "Yes! Right! Sorry!"

That was not to say Crowley wasn't dangerous. His schemes did have a tendency to have bigger repercussions than he bargained on, and while he rarely used violence himself, he was not a pacifist - not by the standard definition, anyway. He had a natural sympathy with rebels, and had nudged along more than one revolution against overbearing authority structures. And, as the spies under the rubble of the former church had discovered, the Serpent would strike without hesitation, if someone he considered to be under his protection was threatened8. But oh, even then...he warned them. _If you run very, very fast, you might not die. You won't enjoy dying - definitely won't enjoy what comes after!_ Three souls the demon seemed to know would go straight to hell if they died in that moment.9 People Crowley would, _of course_ , despise; how had Aziraphale doubted that even for a second! And the demon still warned them.

So...Kindness, Charity, Justice. And, in pursuing them, considerable Fortitude and Diligence. Temperance and Prudence? Not usually, given the tendency of the demon's excesses to skate just along the edge of self-destructiveness. Humility? No - Crowley tended to oscillate erratically between smugness and self-loathing. Patience? _Maybe in the case of putting up with my sillier moments, but not generally. And, speaking of which..._ Aziraphale felt the blood rise to his cheeks. Surely thousands of years of open flirting indicated at least some interest in _fraternizing_ in the way Uriel had meant it. He wasn't sure what the demon did or didn't get up to with humans in his spare time, but certainly he never gave them a second glance when Aziraphale was around. And yet for all the teasing, he had never really made a move, let alone outright asked or seriously suggested anything of the sort. Why? Was it part of his protectiveness, the flip side of Aziraphale's old worry that the demon would tempt him to Fall? Or did he perhaps assume angels would not be interested, and stayed silent to avoid offense?10 Either way, that had to be at least some points toward Chastity, didn't it? Or at least further points in the Kindness column.

A demon who managed to defy his nature and practice five major virtues on a regular basis, and several others in specific circumstances, in a relatively pure manner.... Such a being was surely _deserving_ of love, weren't they, even if they themselves couldn't truly exercise love? _Well, then, my dear,_ Aziraphale thought. _I_ will _love you. I may not be able to speak it, and you may not be able to return it. But I_ won't _feel guilty for it. Maybe I can even show you, a little bit. But not if it puts you at risk. I would cut out my heart, rather than do that._

~~~

The End was upon them, Gabriel cheerfully informed Aziraphale seven short decades later. "We have reason to believe the demon...Crowley?...may be involved," he noted. _Of course,_ Aziraphale thought, suddenly losing his appetite for the perfectly crafted sushi in front of him. _Fitting, really. A starring role in the End Times, as he had had in the Beginning._ The Archangels seemed smugly confident that heaven would win. And they probably would. Angels had fewer handicaps than demons in a fair fight11, and that counted for something. Of course, hell had had millennia to come up with weapons or strategies to combat their natural disadvantages. Heaven might well win, but the Last War would be something far more brutal than the First.

Aziraphale hadn't known Crowley before the Fall, had never encountered him on the battlefield. The demon would probably fight, he thought. Neither of them would have a choice. But, were Aziraphale the angel in front of him, it was unimaginable that Crowley would strike. Would it be the angel's duty, then, to crush that sleek serpentine head with his heel, or extinguish the light in those golden eyes with the thrust of a blessed sword? Aziraphale felt ill at the thought. But the other options seemed as bad or worse: that some other angel who saw only a crawling beast would strike that blow, or that Crowley would survive but be locked down in hell forever alongside a bunch of angry, frustrated demons with an infinite amount of time to revisit old paperwork and no new generations of humans to torment. Aziraphale tried to shake off these thoughts. There was a Plan. And surely, he told himself over and over, the end of a Divine Plan must be Good.

The angel had almost succeeded in convincing himself when Crowley called him up, insisting: "We can do something."

Aziraphale heard himself say things like "It's all going to be rather lovely", and his heart screamed at him. But... _'Walls have ears. Well, trees have ears. Ducks have ears.'_

But this time the demon didn't seem to care about being overheard. Aziraphale realized that he had indeed never experienced the full skills of the original tempter before. Crowley wheedled and argued so persistently, veering away as resistance presented itself and then circling back, over-riding every bit of heavenly propaganda the angel felt obliged to repeat, reminding him of everything he liked about earth. He never made what would have been the most powerful argument outright - _You would miss ME_ \- but every moment of their meal and subsequent wine binge made Aziraphale think it.

_But, my dear, we agreed. No disobeying direct orders._

"I can't disho...dibs...not do what I'm told. 'm an angel," the angel drunkenly reminded the demon. _But, oh, please...tell me that clever mind of yours, with its talent for spotting loopholes, has worked out something I can say yes to. Something that, this time, will let the Angel of Death pass over all of us._

"You're supposed to thwart the wiles of the evil one at every turn, right? Y'see a wile, ya thwart."

"Broadly," Aziraphale agreed carefully, a cautious flicker of hope returning. _Tell me more..._

~~~

One Saturday afternoon, four years before the End - which maybe wouldn't be the End, not if their plan worked - Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis took their young charge to the zoo. If Warlock Dowling's parents thought it was odd that the gardener was going along on this excursion, they didn't comment on it. At least the man had tidied himself up a bit for the event, looking rather less like a comic rustic in a play than usual. The two bickered their way through most of the exhibits, with Nanny frequently giving an exasperated sigh and saying things like: " _Yes,_ I'm sure the platypus is a mammal. For Satan's sake, it is definitely _not_ 'a sort of hairy duck'." But when they reached the reptile house, Brother Francis suddenly seemed far better informed.

"Ooh, now look here, Master Warlock," he said, giving the boy a boost so he could see into the small terrarium. "This here is Sister Coral Snake. Isn't she pretty, with all those red and black and gold bands?"

"She's venomous, though, my pet," Nanny Ashtoreth added. "If she gave you a nip, you'd soon regret it."

"Aye, that's true," Brother Francis conceded. "But she'd rather not. Snakes don't want to harm folk, even the poisonous ones. That's what the bright colors and hoods and rattles are for, y'see. They'll show their fangs if they have to. To protect themselves...and sometimes other things that matter. But if they had their way they'd sit peaceful in a tree or on a warm rock all day. Isn't that right, Miss Ashtoreth?"

Nanny swallowed oddly, as Warlock looked up at her for confirmation. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, my pet. For once, Brother Francis got that exactly right."

________________________________

1\. Gestation time for the first human births was nine days, rather than nine months, presumably to speed up the establishment of the population.Back

2\. _For the humans_ , Aziraphale had insisted, when Crowley grinned a bit too smugly at that choice of phrase.Back

3\. Technically less than two weeks younger than their parents, which was a bit weird. Though possibly not as weird as being created in full adult form out of mud or bones.Back

4\. It didn't occur to Aziraphale at the time that, while Downstairs, Crawly would, of course, have been witness to the initiation of the Watchers as second-generation Fallen - or that that might have had something to do with the way he reacted to Aziraphale's thought about defying orders.Back

5\. Aziraphale understood _why_ \- humans were getting increasingly less comfortable with the idea that supernatural beings might walk among them. But it still felt like a loss.Back

6\. This had been going on much longer than Aziraphale realized. Flipping through a book of Sumerian mythology after the Apocawhoops, he had been startled to notice that the name of Ningishzida, an ambiguously-gendered snake god(dess) who was a deity of vegetation and the underworld, translated to "lord of the good tree"...and that he/she had a spouse named _Azimua_ , a healer.Back

7\. It wasn't until years later that either of them reflected on what an odd, sudden pivot this conversation had taken, from "our association is dangerous" to "why did you refer to our association that way?" to "who said I needed to associate with you at all?"Back

8\. This was, in fact, Crowley's major gripe with 'Hamlet'. "The little twit is agonizing so much over whether to kill his murderous uncle that by the time he gets up the nerve he's screwed over himself and everyone he ever cared about. A fine cautionary tale, I suppose, but watching that shit go on for four hours is _bloody agonizing_."Back

9\. In fact, when he asked later if the demon was likely to get in trouble for the rescue, Crowley had replied: "Are you kidding? I blew up a church and bagged three Nazis before they had a chance to repent. That's my quota for the rest of the month right there."Back

10\. This assumption would not have been _entirely_ wrong, of course. Some of the things humans got up to seemed excessively...squishy. But the demon might have been rather surprised to learn that Aziraphale's fingers had been itching to touch that bright copper hair and those iridescent black feathers since day one. And even more surprised to hear exactly how often the angel got the urge to kiss that infuriating smirk right off his face.Back

11\. For instance, any one of them could manifest holy energy - basically becoming a crucifix or holy water personified - while only some demons could spit fire.Back

**Author's Note:**

> I think I must have seen a line in someone else's story that pointed out the similarity of Crowley's color scheme - black clothes with red accents, copper hair, golden eyes - to classic warning coloration in nature. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to explore that idea.
> 
> Many poisonous or venomous creatures are brightly colored, often with some combination of red/orange, yellow, or black. But so are quite a few non-poisonous critters, who use this coloration - in what is known as Batesian mimicry - to fool predators into not attacking them.
> 
> Coral snakes are very shy and retiring, and it takes a good deal of provocation to get them to bite. While they, and most snakes, are fairly solitary, some species do care for their young. For instance, pythons will curl themselves around their eggs and shiver to warm them, while vipers give birth to live young who often stay with their mother for some time before setting out on their own. And, in that role at least, they will certainly strike to protect others as well as themselves.
> 
> I had known that snakes in mythology were often associated with wisdom. It turns out associations with vegetation and with protection are also oddly common. Renenutet, with her association with plants, children, wine, the underworld, and the ability to spit fire, is just too perfect, though. She is often depicted alongside Thoth, the god of scribes and the written word. Thoth is said to be a good counselor, and has ancient associations with the moon. 
> 
> The biblical version of Exodus has no historical or archaeological evidence in its favor, but would be recent enough that it should, given the excellent record-keeping in Egypt that would definitely have made note of twelve devastating plagues and the departure of very large numbers of former slaves. I therefore went with the "grain of truth" interpretation. Some scholars speculate - since we do know there was a lot of historical back and forth between Egypt and the Levant - that maybe a small group of early Caananites settled in Egypt, and later left and went home, developing their monotheistic beliefs during their wanderings. 
> 
> It seems likely that the Fall and the war that preceded it would have been quite traumatic to the remaining angels, as well as to the demons, and that maybe the coldness of heaven as depicted in GO is partly a response to that. Of the angels mentioned: Puriel is the angel in charge of judging souls, and is described as "fiery and pitiless". Jehudiel is said to be the angel of reward and punishment or, alternately, responsibility and merciful love. Ramiel is one of the Watchers who was cast out of heaven, in part for fathering Nephilim. Cassiel is said to look after the oppressed and downtrodden. The others (Zerachiel and Raziel), and Gabriel's wings, are further described in "A price to pay".
> 
> It was an interesting exercise to write exclusively from Aziraphale's POV. As others have commented, it was more difficult than the other way around...possibly because he's so emotionally buttoned up compared to Crowley that it's harder to picture what's going on in his head.  
> In retrospect, I think the way I wrote their approaches to violence (here and in "The light that is coming in the morning") was inspired by a conversation I had with my best friend in college: her worst nightmares included having to kill someone; in mine I had to keep running and fighting without ever being able to do the damage required to put a stop to the bad thing. Neither really want to do harm, both are dangerous...but Crowley accepts his dangerous side to a greater extent.  
> BTW, Aziraphale does work out the last piece he's missing regarding Crowley's motivations in "Giving up the fight".


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